


Belief

by bri_ness



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Easter, M/M, Panic Attacks, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri_ness/pseuds/bri_ness
Summary: Isak reflects on his own beliefs while attending an Easter service with his family.





	Belief

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, happy Easter if you celebrate! This started as a response to a prompt on my [tumblr](http://brionbroadway.tumblr.com), and I usually don't post those on AO3, but this one tuned out...longer than anticipated. :)
> 
> Small disclaimer, I am a Christian with my own fair share of religious baggage. This is neither a come to Jesus fic or an indictment of religion. It's just what I imagine Isak's relationship with it might be like.

 

Isak could almost believe in it.

As he sings the refrain _it is well with my soul_ , as he listens to Even’s voice declaring the same beside him, he can accept that for both of them.

As he prays for the environment, both for its health and that they’ll become better stewards of it, he feels like he’s doing something to help a problem that feels impossible.

As he greets people he now only sees twice a year, and they hug him like nothing’s changed at all, he’s less skeptical of unconditional love.

He’s always been ok at those parts of church, though. It’s the sermons.

This is supposed to be the best one of the year. It’s Easter, the resurrection, the joy after the grief of the Good Friday.

It always felt so long to Isak, the gap between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. In his first Good Friday service where the story wasn’t sanitized by Sunday school, he just wept and wept, to the point where his dad had to take him outside.  

He was comforted, _we know that Easter Sunday is coming_ , then scolded, _this is meant to be a solemn service, Isak. It’s not the place for you to make a show._

But he couldn’t help it! Jesus, according to Sunday school, was a good guy, and he was killed. Brutally killed—and he did it for what, for him? For _Isak?_ So what did that mean for who Isak had to be, for someone to endure that for him? It was a pressure he didn’t ask for. It was a pressure he was never able to process. So, he wept and wept, because it was sad, that there was evil in the world, that they needed a saviour, that people like himself were part of the problem.

Isak will go to an Easter Sunday service for his mom’s sake, but not a Good Friday one. Not anymore.

Still, as the pastor takes to the pulpit, Isak whispers to Even, “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Here’s what we do,” Even says. “You distract the pastor, and I’ll sneak some of the communion wine. Maybe we can swipe some of the stale crackers too so we’re not drinking on an empty stomach.”

Isak laughs, and no one cares. He’s allowed to _make a show_ on Easter Sunday; the mood is loud and happy. Everyone, including his mom and sister, is wearing new, bright dresses.

“I think it’s just grape juice.”

“Placebo effect.”

Isak tunes into the sermon, about the miracle of this day, about the hope, about, to the pastor’s credit, how women were the first to discover that Jesus rose again.

But then, the tone shifts. They need this miracle because humans are inherently sinful, worthless, shameful—other words Isak doesn’t like to use. They can’t hope in other people, or the universe, or even in themselves, they have to hope in this. And oh yeah, God uses people we wouldn’t expect for his plans, even _women!_

And then, what Isak hates the most— _through his son, God shows the unconditional love of a father._

Which, _really?_ Should it really be a son’s responsibility to prove his father’s love?

Isak needs to get out, and that feeling comes on as it always does, quick and intense. Panic, Even’s called it, but Isak’s not ready to label it as that, even if it shortens his breath and shakes his body.

“Hey,” Even whispers, voice low but firm in his ear. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Isak’s vaguely aware of Even making up an excuse to his parents, of the eyes that follow them either because they’re leaving the church or because they’re doing so hand in hand, of how his body’s threatening to just weep again.

Then, they’re outside.

“Breathe, Isak,” Even says, hands on Isak’s shoulder. “Just breathe with me.”

He does, calming down as he focuses on his own breath, the fresh air, Even’s eyes. “I’m ok.”

“Ok. We don’t have to go back inside. I told your parents we’d see them back at the house.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Even lets them be silent, which Isak appreciates. He knows to wait until Isak’s ready to talk, which he eventually does, words spilling out before Isak’s made sense of them.

“I don’t even believe in this stuff, and it still gets to me. And I know the message is supposed to be that we’re so loved that Jesus would do this for us, but all I hear is that I’m so messed up that Jesus had to do this for me.”

“I get it,” Even says. “Trust me, I understand religious baggage.”

Isak winces. “Sorry. I know this stuff is weird for you too.”

“That just means we can talk through it together.”

Given both Isak and Even’s past with religion, Isak’s always avoided the topic, but Even has a point. It’s a conversation it would probably help them both to have, and Isak knows, he believes to the core of his soul, that it’ll be a conversation without judgement, one that’s based in grace and love.

Others find that in religion, his mom has, his sister has, and that’s fine. Isak’s found it in Even.

“I don’t think it matters what we believe in,” Isak says. “As long as we love each other.”

He means the royal we, as in all of humanity, but it works on both levels.

Even smiles at him. “Then I don’t think you’re messed up at all, Isak.”


End file.
